


Pumpkin- a story for Hallowe'en

by Millgirl



Series: Miranda's Sabbatical [4]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Family Bonding, Older Woman/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 08:09:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21250184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millgirl/pseuds/Millgirl
Summary: Pumpkin, the Priestly-Sachs family cat reflects on his long and happy life.





	Pumpkin- a story for Hallowe'en

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. This is a little story for today. I mean, today! Just a snapshot to update you on our favourite family. More stories soon.

Pumpkin, the Priestley-Sachs family’s elderly cat, stretched his paws out in the warm autumnal sunshine which filtered down through the smoggy haze of Manhattan, and waggled his whiskers. He liked the feel of the sunshine, but the wind was chilly and every step he took was painful these days. Besides, on this, the last day of October, the afternoon was drawing to a close. 

He decided to return from the garden, back to the inside of his home, where the cushions were soft and the central heating always reliable, to toast his old bones by a radiator. The clocks had just been turned back an hour, not that Pumpkin was too bothered about telling the time, but he could see the kitchen lamps were already lit and his supper might be soon put down in his special corner.

He did what usually worked, padded over to the patio doors and made silent yowling faces up at the glass. As expected, one of the children, twelve year old Amelia, came across and opened the door for him. 

“Come on Pumps, you’re better off inside on a day like this. They’ll be trick or treating round here soon, anyway. You don’t want a fire-cracker tied to your tail or anything horrid like that.”

Pumpkin entered, and headed straight past her to the object of at least half of his affections, his Mama, Andrea, who had rescued him as a kitten from a hellish experience in a dumpster, and who had loved him with no mixed feelings ever since. He tried to jump up on her lap where she was sitting in the kitchen, but his arthritis defeated him and he fell back in a less than dignified tumble.

Andrea scooped him up and held him close against her heart. He wanted to sit on her lap, but it was pretty difficult these days. Andrea was heavily pregnant with her fourth child, and as usual, carried it high. 

Her three young children clustered round her. They were all worried about Pumpkin, who was fifteen years old, and a shadow of his former, handsome self. Their half-sisters, Caroline and Cassidy had both left home, but were expected back for Thanksgiving in less than a month. They would be devastated if Pumpkin wasn’t there to greet them, but Andrea seriously wondered if he could last even that time. She knew he was in pain, but the pills from the vet were hard for him to swallow and he hated the taste. She shouldn’t let him suffer. 

Nine year old Helena, who was as tall, dark and slim as her older sister was short, fair-haired and plump, reached over and tried to smooth down his fur, which now stuck up in clumps. He couldn’t turn his head anymore to groom it himself and it was dry and dull. 

“I’ll get his little brush and see if I can make him feel better,” she said. 

The girls’ younger brother Charlie, tried very hard to be gentle. He was only five though, and still a little scared sometimes of Pumpkin, who had an unpredictable temper and could lash out at small bare legs passing him on the stairs. He leaned against his mother, and tentatively tickled Pumpkin behind his ears.

“How old is Pumpkin, Mama?”

“Fifteen. That’s very old for a cat . Mommy and I got him in 2004, before anyone else in the family apart from Cass and Caro. He was a little kitten then.”

“Why was he called Pumpkin?”

“Because he was golden coloured, and it was just this time of year, when all the pumpkins were put up in people’s windows for Hallowe’en. He’s been with us ever since. He saw all of you arrive as babies, and has been with us ever since, through thick and thin.”

Amelia liked the old story of how Mama had first got their cat, and encouraged her to tell it again.

“Well, if you draw the drapes, and set the table for supper, I’ll tell you the story.” 

Charlie looked up expectantly. He guessed he also knew how Mama’s story went, but he loved hearing it. Helena had fetched the cat brush and was gently soothing Pumpkin’s ginger locks into some sort of order. 

“Well, as you know, Mommy, Cass, Caro and I all lived in this house. It had just been redecorated and the carpets and drapes were then brand new, even the stair carpet. Mommy had taken some time off work, and I was home because I had had a little accident and had banged my head. I had really short hair, shorter than yours, Charlie darling, and I used to tie it up in a headscarf to keep my head warm.”

Andrea didn’t mention that she had had her hair shaved off after she’d been mugged in Central Park and received twenty-three stitches down the back of her skull. 

“Anyway, you can imagine that with all those decorating rolls of wall paper, and pots of paint, the house was rather messy, so Mommy asked me if I wouldn’t mind taking some of the rubbish, all the wrapping paper and cardboard, off to the recycling centre. I loaded up the car and drove over to the place. It wasn’t like today, when everyone recycles at the doorstep. You had to go to a special place. Anyway, when I got there, I started to go back and forth with all the garbage, and then I heard this little tiny cry.”

“Like a baby crying.”

“Yes, just like a baby crying. 

“ ‘What can that be?’ I asked myself, and then I looked inside one of the cardboard boxes thrown into the dumpster, and there was Pumpkin! He was very, very small, only about six weeks old, and shivering and wet. I managed to lean over and lift up the box, and I pulled him out. I wrapped him up in my scarf and put him on the back seat of the car and drove him as quickly as I could all the way home!”

“And what did Mommy do?” Amelia always enjoyed this part of the story. 

“She screamed, and said, “Not with all the new wallpaper! You must be crazy.”

“But you won her round?” 

“Obviously. Within a week he was sleeping on our bed. Mommy loves him just as much as I do.”

“Not quite, “ a voice chipped in, as Miranda came through the door. “Remember the infamous incident of the Met Gala in 2009 when he destroyed a thousand dollars’ worth of my gold threaded Valentino dress, in one twenty minute temper tantrum.”

“Pumps never has temper tantrums. He just needs to express his inner tiger sometimes.”

“ Humph! How you feeling , darling? I came home early because I was worried for you all on Hallowe’en. The gangs of children round here are getting worse. They are already working houses down the end of the street.”

Miranda came in and swept all her little ones into a huge hug. They reached up and held her tight, until she gasped for breath. Then she turned to Andrea and caressed her cheek and gently smoothed a curl away from her face.. Andrea’s hair was long, and luxuriant, but in deference to her matronly status, and age-group, she now wore it swept back in a loose bun much of the time. Loose was the operative word. Miranda had never known anyone with such slippery hair. It was born to escape any means of control.

“Oh, not bad at all. I have finished another chapter today, and want you to read it. I’m still on track to finish the book before Oscar arrives.”

“Oscar?” 

It was Helena who looked at her with raised eyebrows now. She reminded Andrea so much of her own darling mother, it was uncanny.

“I’ve decided to call him Oscar as the rest of you can’t come to a decision. You better make up your minds as he’ll be turning up in six weeks.”

Andrea had spaced her children out through the last twelve years, to give each of them sufficient time as the special baby, and also to complete a book, or two sometimes, between each pregnancy. This was the last one though, according to Miranda, who realistically didn’t want to be well into her eighties when she was attending her last offspring’s graduation from High School. She also feared more than a little for Andrea’s health.

Andrea was approaching her forties, and had already been told to take as much rest as possible this time round, to fend off the threat of pre-eclampsia. If anything happened to Andrea, Miranda just didn’t know how she’d survive. They been together for fifteen years, married for fourteen, but she still felt as though Andrea had just walked into her life yesterday. She was her life’s blood, her adored one, her wife, and the mother of her children. She looked at her now, fondling dear old Pumpkin, and remembered the day he had arrived, almost exactly fifteen years ago. It took her back to those strange, wonderful weeks when Andrea’s memory was still patchy after the attack in the Park. 

. . . . . . . . . . . .   
“Miranda, look what I found in the dumpster!”

Miranda was on her hands and knees picking threads of cotton off the new dining room carpet. The curtain hangers had been careless enough to leave threads everywhere, which for some reason intensely annoyed her. They’d been paid enough, surely, and she didn’t want Cara and the vacuum cleaner to suffer the consequences of having the machine seize up from cotton wound round the beater. She had channelled all her anxieties over Andrea’s head injury into finishing off the redecoration project, and knew her tendency was to get very over-focussed on perfection. But she couldn’t help it. If the decorations were completed perfectly, then Andrea’s health would return perfectly. It was like wishing on a talisman. 

That was why she screamed when she saw the kitten, all bedraggled and starving, thrust in front of her face by her entirely too cheerful young fiancee. 

“Great, take it round to animal rescue. Some other family will love it, I’m sure!”

“Miranda, don’t be silly. He’s staying here. You promised me a kitten and here he is!”

“I did no such thing. All I said was that I wasn’t buying Cassidy a pony.”

“Exactly! And this is just what we need to distract her from that idea. Look isn’t he darling? He’s going to be a long- furred ginger. I’m going to get him some warm milk. The poor thing had been thrown away, and would have died if I hadn’t seen him.”

Judging from the kitten’s sorry state, Miranda worried that they would have a little corpse on their hands anyway. She had hoped to shield her daughters from this sight, but they ran through the door before she could move. Caroline saw her mother down on the floor and actually came over and sat on top of her back. 

“Hey, don’t do that. I am not a donkey. You can help me pick up the threads if you want to be useful. This is giving me a headache.”

“What’s that in your hands, Andy?” asked Cassidy, who hadn’t jumped her Mom, but was now tugging her to her feet. “A kitten! Oh how darling! Mom, please, please say we can keep him!”

“At least you have the decency to ask my permission, unlike other members of this household.”

Andrea showed the kitten’s poor little face and his little pink nose to the twins. 

“I may be a junior partner, but I am definitely in charge of pet-care. And think how empty the house has been since Patricia died. He’ll fit right in.”

Miranda decided to be brutally honest.

“He’ll tear the new wallpaper, rip the curtains to pieces and probably pee on the carpet, and in the summer, he’ll get fleas.”

“Well I’m certainly not going to let anyone take out his claws. That is totally barbaric.”

“And he might die.”

“No he won’t. Don’t listen to the horrid lady, little kitten. Come with me.”

Andy, had less than an inch of hair on her head still, but she looked like a cat herself in the late afternoon lamplight. Miranda gave in, as she always did when Andrea looked fierce and passionate. 

She stood up, helped by the twins who then hung round her and walked her down to the kitchen.

“Mommy, mommy, can we go trick or treating?”

“Certainly not. It’s a horrible tradition, purely designed to cause mess and mayhem, and central New York is not the location for young girls to go out after dark, even if you had me or Andy with you.”

“Last year . . . “

“Last year you were only nine. Now you are ten, much older and more sensible. Besides, you can’t go out. You have to help Andy settle in our new kitten.”

Andrea had been listening to all of this, and took up the challenge. 

“Cass, can you please look for a little cardboard box in the basement, and Caro, please go and find one of your really old sweaters, a nice soft one you’ve outgrown. Miranda darling, can you fetch me the syringe from the medical box, and I’ll hold him and warm him up some milk.”

She really was a born project manager. They all focussed on their tasks, and then Miranda held the kitten, while Andrea gently got an ounce of warm milk into his little tummy. He was too weak to lap, but eventually he consumed enough milk to look a little better, then he promptly fell asleep in the crook of Miranda’s arm. She sat down on the family room large couch, and didn’t move a muscle. Andrea kissed her fondly. 

“What shall we call him?”

“Ask the girls. Why not let them decide?”

“So, Bobbsies, any idea?”

“Pumpkin,” suggested Caroline, immediately. “Because he’s the colour of a pumpkin and he came to us on Hallowe’en.”

“Good idea! Any objections or other suggestions, Cassie?” 

“No, I think it’s a cool name.”

So Pumpkin it was.

Later that night, warmly wrapped up round Miranda in bed, Andrea thanked her for allowing their little lodger to join the family.

“I know I bounced you into it. But I couldn’t throw him out, just when he thought his life had been saved and he had a chance of happiness.”

“When he’s stronger you must take him for his shots, and then he’ll need to be neutered. We can’t have a tom-cat spraying everywhere.”

“Of course.”

“But he’ll be good for the girls, and he has a sweet face. I’m sure he’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

Miranda knew, even as she said it, that this was wishful thinking.

Pumpkin settled into their lives, but he never became a perfect gentleman. He seemed to understand he was the only male in the family, and even against Miranda he would occasionally have a complete stand-off. But Andrea, he always loved, and she in return forgave him his many misdeeds, even when he came home with a dead bird, or one dreadful day, a baby rat which he placed reverently at her feet. She bathed his wounds when he got into fights with the cats in the neighbourhood, and cleaned up the messes he made in his childhood, before he learned what a cat-tray was supposed to be used for.

Now, fifteen years later, he was approaching the end of his long and relatively exciting life. Cats know, and he knew, that no-one is immortal. As Andrea’s lap was no longer available, he happily curled himself up on top of Miranda’s knees as she sat by the fire late that evening, and felt the warmth of her seep into him. She had her legs lifted up, to rest her aching calves, and looked across at Andrea sitting opposite her in the lamplight. The children were all in bed. Cara, their rock solid nanny and domestic goddess had gone home. 

“Did Caro talk to you today?”

“Yes, she’s booked a flight from Milan. She’ll be home in good time.”

“I’m so proud of her. Several of her dresses have been picked for their Spring collection.”

“Well, she takes after you, darling. Why wouldn’t she shine?”

“And Cassidy, our lovely Cassidy, I wonder if she ever will get into space. This new Mars Mission posting seems very promising. “

“Cassidy is cleverer than any of us, but she just has a gift for figures. I suppose they may be bringing their own kids home here one day.”

“We’ll see. I’ve been thinking, If Pumps goes, and our new baby comes, would you like us all to relocate out of the city next Spring? Wouldn’t you like a bigger garden for the youngsters? Less pollution?”

“It’s a huge decision, sweetheart. Our whole life has been centred here and up at the cottage. The children are very happy and thriving at Daltons, and you still need to be in Manhattan for your work. I can write anywhere, but you . . . “

“Andy, I am thinking of retiring. No! Seriously! Remember that wonderful sabbatical year, when we did so much, when all the things happened which made it possible for you to have children with my DNA? Wouldn’t it be lovely to relive that again, just to have the time.”

“But you are a legend in New York! How would you or the fashion quarter survive if you retire?” 

“Honey, I’m nearly sixty-five. I won’t be around for ever. I don’t want to waste another day that I might have spent with you.”

Pumpkin was partially deaf, so he only paid scant attention to what his people were talking about, but he knew he was loved, by Mommy, on whose knees he now rested, and by his Mama, who had rescued him so long ago. The gentle rhythms of their voices had been the sound track to his entire life. While the children who had come later had sometimes quarrelled and shouted, these two women had never really argued, never raised their voices to each other. They lived and loved each other in perfect harmony.

He stretched out his paw, and fell asleep. He was a very contented cat living in a happy family. No cat could ask for more. He began to purr, and his old paws kneaded Miranda’s lovely knitted skirt. She put down her hand to gently dissuade him, and he fell fast asleep, cuddled against her palm.


End file.
